This Wasn't in the Floor Plan

Finally.
My bra was tugged up, breasts bared to him, and I was on top—exactly where I wanted to be, wrists still bound behind me, breathless, aching, flushed.
This was the moment I'd been waiting for.

Not the grinding. Not the power games. Not even the kiss.

This.

Him.
Seeing me.
Touching me.
Worshipping me like I was his whole damn religion.

His hands moved over me with purpose now, no hesitation. He cupped both breasts, thumbs circling slowly—just enough pressure to make my breath catch. And then again, a little firmer. My nipples tightened instantly, every nerve lighting up under his fingers.

He kissed me again—still hungry, still open—but now with this new layer of tension, like he didn't know whether to keep kissing my mouth or devour what was in front of him.

I felt his lips pull away.
One kiss—hot and possessive—pressed into the side of my neck.
And then he dipped lower.

His mouth hovered over my chest.

I gasped, anticipation clawing at my spine.

But he didn't go for the peaks right away.

No.
Riku was the kind of cruel that made you feel every second of wanting.
He licked softly—along the curve beneath one breast, then up the side of the other. His tongue was warm and maddening, circling everything but where I wanted him most.

It was torture. It was bliss.

Then he looked up at me—his voice dark, breath rough.

"Say please," he said, lips ghosting over my skin. "And I'll suck them for you."

I met his eyes, heat pulsing between my thighs, my smirk weak but still there.

"Please, daddy."

He chuckled—low and wrecked—and finally gave me what I wanted.

His mouth closed around one peak, tongue flicking over it in slow, deliberate strokes before switching to the other. He licked, sucked, alternated with maddening patience until I couldn't hold it in anymore.

My head dropped back.

A moan escaped me—raw and breathy.

"You're so good," I whimpered, writhing on his lap. "Mmm... don't stop."

And he didn't.

My legs were trembling now, barely keeping me upright on his lap. My arms, still bound behind me, offered no balance—just a reminder of how much I'd given him, how much I was surrendering in this moment.

And he didn't let up.

His mouth moved over my chest like he was learning me. Like every flick of his tongue, every suck, every slow circle around my nipple was a language he intended to master.

I tried to stay steady.

Tried to stay in control.

But my hips kept stuttering—grinding against him like I couldn't stop. Like I needed the pressure between us to survive it. My breath came in ragged little gasps, thighs tightening around his waist, head tilting back because I couldn't—couldn't—keep looking at him while he did this to me.

"You're shaking," he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with awe.

I moaned in response—soft, high, desperate.

He kissed me again between my breasts, tongue dragging in slow reverence. My spine bowed, hips rocking forward. It was too much. Too good.

"Riku—"